


Be Careful on Moonlit Nights

by AuroraAustralice



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Scottish Highlander, Stonehenge - Freeform, Time Travel, folk magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraAustralice/pseuds/AuroraAustralice
Summary: AU- Hermione is one romance obsessed, coffee ice-cream loving, rescue cat away from matron status but after deciding to go on a solo visit to the Stonehenge for a birthday treat and falling back in time into the arms of Scottish warlord and Liard of clan MacFoy, Draconis... Hermione isn't so sure magic doesn't exist any more.(M for later chap, Semi-Magical AU, Historical Romance, Time Travel)This story has magic in it, but the regular kind we muggles experience, I'll call this my semi-magical alternate universe.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott Luna Lovegood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Be Careful on Moonlit Nights

Hermione Granger sighed, she was ruinously boring. She truly, fully was. Today was her twenty fifth birthday and now at the end of her day as a school teacher in Our Holy Mary of Sorrows middle school she was going to head home to her rescue cat Crooks and a pint of Hagan Daz coffee ice-cream.

It was her own damn fault she thought bitterly, she had had her head stuck in books since she was old enough to read. She watched as her student's filed out, all girls of-course. What could OHMS be other than a convent with a name like that.

Best they never find out her side hobby then, she giggled to herself. She won't just be kicked out of school, she'd be burned on a stake in front of the nuns. Not that magic existed... but she was allowed to believe whatever she wanted.

All she wanted to do right now was curl up with a good romance novel. Yes. She admitted it. She was a romance addict. It went with all her other weird, matron tropes. She loved cats, was vegetarian, got bullied when she was in sixth form and loved her crystals and sage. A good historical romance, with a nicely brewed cup of chamomile tea was her idea of an exciting night in.

After all being the music teacher cum librarian of a swanky private school in the heart of London had it perks but certainly wasn't what one would call a 'glamorous' job.

But Hermione Granger; bookworm, studious, violin prodigy who had to quit playing large crowds because of debilitating social anxiety and overall average human being was certainly not glamorous. She was if anything slightly shy.

But she was doing something adventurous over this weekend, she thought as the last of the children filed out of her classroom and she began to tug her pink knitted bobbled hat down over her wildly curly hair and put on her poofy white jacket.

She had decided to treat herself to a weekend getaway to Wiltsire, to see the Stonehenge. She refused to feel guilty about the tiny twinge of excitement she felt knowing she had booked her Air B&B for two nights, corresponding to the full-moon that month.

So, sue her, she wanted to enjoy what could only be described as a magical place during a magical night once in her very non-magical life. She wasn't expecting a Diane Gabaldon Outlander moment but certainly a fairy circle or two wouldn't be remiss.

She had shared her plans with her two best girlfriends, they had met online through a forum on incense of all places and then formed a sort of book club.

Ginny and Luna were super excited for her since it was often at their urging that's she tried something new.

Ginny a gorgeous red-headed journalist worked for the BBC and Luna the third of their strange little tripod was an artist, some would call her a free-spirit... a patchouli scented hug in hand knit sweaters is how Hermione would describe Luna.

All three had just clicked, like old friends and now they met weekly for 'bookclub' which was code for high-tea, snacks and girl time since no one other than Hermione actually read the books, if they ever remembered to assign any for the week.

Hermione had always been the responsible one, when her mum was sick, she had moved home from uni in Cambridge to look after her and her one semi-serious relationship in university had ended before it could even begin when she had caught Oliver with her roommate and at that time friend Lavender.

She hadn't raved or ranted or thrown him out of her life like she should've, in fact she still sent him Christmas cards! Something Ginny called a pussy move but she just called being courteous.

It had hurt, sure but Hermione had always felt a little bit like an odd duck. Like this wasn't where she belonged, teaching little girls how to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' in a convent school that would destroy her if they found out how much she liked the occasional pot brownie of Luna's or how she carried rose quartz and selenite in her pocket.

But feeling out of place wasn't new for her maybe that's why she was so drawn to witchcraft and romance novels.

She considered herself a green witch or her definition of green witch anyway... she worshipped Hestia and Persephone, cultivated herbs from the more common sage and rosemary to rarer passionflowers and valerians, she foraged for mushrooms and was known among her friend circle for her wonderful skin-care tinctures.

If there was one thing she had done after getting an adult job and her own place was make it as homely and comfortable as possible, slowly going full witch on both the decor and the ambience.

Her small but neat two-bedroom cottage was an hour-long train ride outside London but school let out earlier than most office jobs so she always got home in good time.

Covered in lush plants and flowers, her home was like an oasis of green, living things. Her cat, old as he was... bless him, played like a little ginger tiger within the foliage. She had created a haven for herself.

She always felt a great sense of peace whenever she returned home and often lost herself within the pages of a book almost as soon as she sat down and put her feet up, hidden from prying eyes in her very own hidden island.

But today was Friday and normally she'd be heading home but she was taking the train down to Wiltsire this weekend.

She began to rush towards the tube, knowing it would take her at least half an hour before she could get to Kings Cross. She had carried her little wheelie suitcase with her to school and could feel her excitement rising.

Maybe she was a nerd but she was buzzing to see the Stonehenge, a living piece of history was really nothing to be scoffed at. And she was fascinated by the history of druids England and wondered what it would have been like to be alive at that time in history; before the Dark Ages when knowledge became a thing the church used to gain superiority and reign with absolute terror instead of something to be celebrated like the ancient druids did.

Or maybe whispered that tiny voice inside her head... something magical is going to happen. She shook her head bemused, it was highly unlikely that if there were to be an Outlander moment that it would be happening to her. Slowly humming on her way, she barely noticed the storm that had blown over London had certainly left the air charged with all sorts of... possibilities.


	2. Luck Reads Romance Novels Too

Moonlit 1.1

Hermione was sure she was incredibly unlucky.... the thunder rumbled ominously as she stood in the wide inner circle of standing stones. She needed to take cover as soon as possible before the lightening made her into a pancake.... why oh why hadn’t she read the weather forecast before venturing out like a fool, she was British for god sakes?! 

.......   
Earlier That Evening.... 

Hermione’s train ride to Wiltshire had been completely uneventful, she had cracked open one of her favourite author’s new medieval romance novel in preparation to get into a good mood before she visited the Stonehenge tonight. 

The owners of the adorable cottage that she had rented for the weekend assured her that while there was a fee, lots of people went to view the Stonehenge during the night, especially on a full moon night. Even though the Druids had nothing to do with the Stonehenge by all historical accounts, revival groups frequented the monument often. Particularly on full moon nights. She was coming during off season though so she hoped that she’d be left to her own devices. 

She had her entire two days planned down to the tee and wasn’t interested in anyone interfering. 

So, when she had arrived at the cottage, she quickly stripped off her work clothes and filled a bath. 

Wanting to really manifest some good luck and zest into her life she had decided to light some incense and have herself a little ritual bath, she had read up on them and was carrying all the necessary accoutrement. She was carrying some pleasantly scented candles, her large rose quartz crystal, roses and enough milk to add to the bath to really make it feel like she was pampering herself. 

Hermione lit the candles around the sunken wooden tub and brought out her new sage smudging stick... no room for bad vibes today she muttered to herself, the ritual bath she had been attracted to had been the one labelled ‘Self-Love’ and she needed a bit of self-love and confidence. 

Hermione liberally sprinkled the rose petals and the calendula flowers throughout the bath, added some rose and lavender oil before slipping off her bathrobe and stepping into the bath. 

She didn’t know about magic but a good bath certainly had some restorative powers. She slid deeper into the bath, wishing she had grabbed one of Luna’s ‘special’ cakes to bring with her, her fingers idly skimmed the surface of the milky water but she felt an odd restlessness in her breast, she attributed it to the fact that she was excited to visit the ruins but she knew she wasn’t telling herself the full truth. 

The truth was she didn’t know where the restlessness came from and all she really knew was that the pull in the middle of her chest directly related to her desire to visit the Stonehenge. 

She was just imagining things she thought, shaking her head and focusing on her bath... she sunk all the way down, enjoying how the milky white droplets glimmered on her bronze skin, burnished to a beautiful golden by the candle light.... 

Hermione knew she would never be a beauty queen; she didn’t have Ginny’s brilliant ruby hair and laughing light amber eyes or Luna’s dreamy beauty with her almost silvery blonde hair and denim light eyes but she wasn’t half bad to look at... maybe she could have done with a few more hours at the gym but if she was being fully honest she didn’t mind the soft padding and she was healthy. As a horse, if her doctor was to be believed, she had good straight teeth, braces... a curse during her teen years had paid off with straight, white teeth that often flashed in her easy smile and a full head of hair.... so really, she wasn’t terribly off. 

Remembering she had brought a bottle of her favourite prosecco she nipped out and poured herself a glass before sinking back into the decadently hot bath. 

Soon she was pleasantly mellow, reflecting that life wasn’t all that un-magical on a daily basis. Hermione was surprised at the tranquillity she was experiencing however that strange longing for being outside continued to bother her. 

Deciding to trust herself and not wait any longer she stepped out of the bath, wrapping herself in the thick bathrobe hanging off the hook on the door. Even though she had just experienced a sense of tranquillity, it didn’t take long for her heart to start hammering. 

I’m so silly, she thought to herself, they’re just ruins. Nothing is going to happen, she had to be firm with herself. As a young girl Hermione had read hours and hours’ worth of fantasy novels and her imagination loved to jump to the many scenarios that could come of an adventure like this. Naturally as she grew up, she realized that sometimes fairy-tales are exactly that.... fairy-tales. But stopping her brain was a whole other story. 

It was late-September and there was a chill in the air, Hermione grabbed a pair of well-worn jeans, a long sleeve Cambridge tee shirt and a thick fleecy jacket with a hood. 

Comfort over fashion was Hermione Granger’s motto, plus she’d freeze in a dress and nobody was seeing her in a dress anyway. Not like I’m going to fall back in time she the thought with a wistful giggle before tugging on her socks; pink with a print of a ginger cat watching lasers on it... a gift from Ginny this birthday and her Doc Martens. 

She was set.   
.... 

Isle of Skye, 1408 

“He is dyin’ Draco.” The large woman tending the small boy on the bed turned towards the large warrior hunched over the bed. “Won’t be long now... just like his ma.” 

“I can’t...” came the harsh voice of the warrior, “He is all I have of her, he cannot die Ida. There must be something.” 

The old woman made a sound at the back of her throat, “His fever won’t break, I have bleed him already, his skin remains clammy... I don’t know what else to do, Liard.” 

It was rare for the great Liard of the MacFoy clan to be brought to his knees, but he sank down and for the first time in years... he prayed. 

His son... his last and most precious link to his wife Astoria lay dying and he couldn’t do anything. He... the man who had fought his way out of a Turkish prison during the Crusades was powerless to help is son. 

“There is a place, Liard.” Came Ida’s soft voice, painted with compassion and sympathy since their entire clan had grieved when Draco had lost beautiful Astoria, as she gave birth to his child. 

“Down south.” 

He turned sharply towards her, “I want only a Highland healer.”  
“I am told the healers are all highly killed, my Liard.” Ida insisted. 

“Where is it?” 

“In England...” she said softly, waiting for his outburst of anger. 

“Where?” he said breathing deeply, “For my son, I will travel down to hell itself. Tell me.” 

“It’s a guild, like the ancient Druids but in the south of England... I have heard some of their nuns and nurses can perform miracles, aye.” 

“How do I find this place?” 

“’Tis near the ancient standing stones of Wiltshire.” 

“And you have heard things Ida... good things?” 

“As much as one can hear, locked up here in Skye Liard but the merchants have spoken about them... almost reverently, if there is anyone who can help the young master it might just be them.” 

Ida watched as determination hardened the Liard’s handsome face. Despite the torture he had endured in the heathen land Draconis was still an exceptionally handsome man... oh his face and body may have been scarred now but it only added to his magnetic appeal. In the two years since his wife’s death, clans from around Skye and even the mainland’s were sending their daughters to court his favours. 

While not pompous and pretty the young Liard of Clan MacFoy wore his power like a cloak around him, when he spoke both men and women listened, his powerful body contained a just and fair heart.... aye, Ida was certain... any task the Liard set his mind to, he would surely accomplish. 

Draco bent over his little boy’s head, running his large hand over the fragile blond head resting in the large bed, “My precious Scorpius, I will return with a healer.” He vowed “and in no time at all son, you shall be riding with your old Da”   
Nodding to Ida abruptly, he turned and strode out of the dark chamber.   
....

It was empty thought Hermione in surprise... expecting at least a few people out of the slightly blustery night, the monument was only a fifteen-minute walk from her cottage and she had walked all the way feeling her heart beat faster and faster. 

It wasn’t an illusion... it was indeed empty. As Hermione drew closer however she heard a familiar rumble in the air... 

Shit! She hadn’t looked at the weather forecast like a dummy and sure enough when she looked up dark grey clouds were rapidly covering up the full moon. 

No no no! She wanted to scream and cry, it was about to pour and she was too far from her cottage, she had the worst luck of all time. She had to get to some kind of shelter quick because she was in danger of possibly getting hit by a bolt of lightning.

Hermione whelped before quickly running towards the Stonehenge feeling tears well up into her eyes... so stupid....so her to get stuck in a thunderstorm in an ancient monument on her birthday. 

She hurriedly made it past the large standing stones on the outside and was in the inner ring soon. 

She rested her head against one of the stones, feeling angry at her stupidity... I should never do something on impulse she thought angrily. 

The air hummed with electricity, making her heart beat faster... something strange was happening but even before the scream was out of her mouth the large stone, she was leaning against was hit by a bolt of thunder.

Hermione screamed... her vision spinning madly and the last thing she saw before her eyes shut was the clear, starry sky. 

...  
Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, always welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Story inspired by- Julie Garwood, the song Flowers of Glasgow by Peakfiddler on YouTube, my love of romance novels, history and magic. Chapters that follow will be much longer, however I needed to have this out before the plot ate at the inside of my head and prevented me from sleeping. Yes I know that she's visiting the Stonehenge in Wiltsire but Draco is described as a Highlander... all shall be explained next chapter ;)
> 
> reviews are both loved and appreciated xx


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